


The One With the Superpowers

by mithrel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blanket Permission, Gen, Podfic Welcome, Pop Culture, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's been at the Collective since he was seven, learning to control his powers. He's almost finished with his training when new students show up, one of whom is the seemingly-ordinary Stiles Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/gifts).



> Rated Teen to be safe because of discussion of possible disturbing concepts. Written as a birthday gift for ladydrace, who wanted an "X-Men AU." Didn't quite manage that, but I did cram in as many geek references as possible.

Derek’s one of the older members of the Collective. Older in how long he’s been here, as well as his actual age. He’s mostly done with his training and not sure whether to go out in the field (where his abilities would definitely be useful) or to stay on to teach, as some of the others have.

He’s probably going to leave, since he doesn’t really have the patience or temperament for teaching (but then again, neither does Finstock, who has a tendency to scream at the students. Derek doesn’t understand why they keep him on, since he doesn’t have any powers himself, and screaming at a budding pyromancer is a bad idea for everyone involved.)

The main thing is that he’s been here so long. His family didn’t know how to deal with his radical shifts in personality when he was younger, or his inexplicable aggression that no one connected to the moon (because why would they? werewolves aren’t real). Right about the time he started shifting physically, some men in black suits showed up in an unmarked van (and how cliché can they get, really?) and told his parents that it was better for everyone that Derek go with them.

He hasn’t had much contact with his parents, beyond occasional handwritten letters (“No email, that’s a security risk”) but at least he knows they haven’t forgotten him.

He does wonder how they’d react if, when he finished his training, he showed up on their doorstep. There are rules about “contact with people from your former life,” (usually friends and lovers) but those are mainly for people who came to the Collective as adults, which is uncommon, or adolescents, which is the norm.

Derek came when he was seven.

He doesn’t really care about the “security risks” the agents are always bitching about. When he first came, he was sullen, not talking to anyone, getting violent if they pushed for interaction. The agents who brought him in wanted to “neutralize” him, but someone…he’s not sure who…intervened.

He looks through a window at Deaton, who, as usual, is seated cross-legged on the floor, a couple nervous new students in front of him. God, he’s so glad he’s done with the “focusing” classes. Bunch of new-age crap.

“Focus on your breathing,” Deaton says. “Let it take you inward, to the place where your powers live.”

Derek rolls his eyes, because really? Deaton’s classes (properly called “Awareness and Control”) are mandatory for new students, so they can “bring their powers forward into the conscious mind, and stop reacting emotionally when threatened.” He’d been one of the oldest students still taking that class by the time Deaton graduated him, not because he couldn’t control his powers, but because he didn’t go along with the “exercises.”

He’d done much better in Braeden’s classes, preferring to do something physical. It didn’t hurt that in the first class she showed them what they could do on the parkour course if they focused. He’s become a favorite of hers since then. She even snuck him out once to ride her motorcycle.

He and Chris Argent don’t really get along. It’s not that Derek isn’t interested in tactics, but Chris wants to make him into a “leader,” and is always telling him about the “admiration the other students have” for him. Derek isn’t sure whether it’s “admiration” per se. He figures it’s a mixture of awe of his powers and fear. Certainly no one has bothered to actually make friends with him, but at least they don’t whisper where he can hear anymore (and, because of his abilities, he has a longer earshot than most).

Derek has more free time than most students, since his powers are mostly under his control and he got his GED years ago. That had been another problem; they had middle and high school teachers on staff, but no elementary teachers, so they’d had to recruit one for him. Once she got over the shock of it all, she was a good teacher, and he’d liked her.

The bell rings for lunch and he heads to the cafeteria. Isaac’s in front of him in the line.

Derek nods at him. “Isaac.”

Isaac nods back, his eyes focused on his food. Not that Derek can blame him. Derek gets some nervous looks, but the stares Isaac gets are downright hostile.

Derek usually eats with Isaac, because he feels sorry for him. Isaac had had a lot of friends before Harris went off the rails…now the other students all think he’s somehow infected, a not-quite-literal time bomb whose counter no one could see.

Isaac heads to a table in the corner when he gets his food and Derek follows. When Derek had first plopped down at his table, Isaac had snarled that he didn’t need Derek’s pity, but Derek had shrugged.

“What pity? This was the closest open seat.”

Isaac hadn’t challenged him again, and they’d sat together, the two people the others never knew quite how to react to.

“I heard Danny telling Ethan they’re going out after someone else soon,” Isaac says as he opens his milk carton.

“Oh?” Derek says. “Wonder what their powers’ll be?”

Isaac shrugs. “Danny didn’t say.” He pauses, then says softly, “Maybe this one won’t listen to the gossip…”

Derek politely pretends not to hear him. “Did he mention if they were male or female?”

Isaac shrugs again. “Who knows? But statistically it’s probably a guy.”

Derek nods. There are more guys here than girls; he’s not sure if most mutations are on the Y-chromosome or if there’s some other reason. Other than Lydia and Erica, and Chris Argent’s daughter Allison, the only female with special abilities is Ms. Morrell, who helps the elementalists focus their powers. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

*-*-*-*

It's a few days before the new student shows up. Derek doesn't really think about it, running the parkour course, keeping Isaac out of trouble, and dodging Chris Argent.

When he does show up though, Derek gets a surprise. It’s not one student.

It’s _two._

He sees them come out of the elevator, a skinny kid in a red hoodie and another kid with floppy brown hair. 

He casually drifts over, positioning himself at the back of the small crowd that's gathered. No one's making any hostile moves, but the new kids are nervous; Derek can smell it on them.

Shaking his head, Derek moves through the curious students, a path opening for him as they realize he's there.

The floppy-haired kid backs up a step. The skinny kid gulps as he sees him, but he stares back defiantly.

"Don't you all have classes to get to?" Derek asks the crowd laconically, and they gradually scatter.

"Thanks," the skinny kid says, and Derek shrugs.

The guy in the suit that came in with them, seeing that Derek's taken charge of the newbies (or, more likely, not caring) turns around to leave the complex.

Derek sighs. "Come on."

"So what's your name?" he asks the skinny kid, as he leads the two of them in the direction of Deaton's office.

"Stiles. Well, not really, but my _actual _name is impossible to pronounce, let alone spell, and if even I had trouble with it as a kid you know my teachers will, and anyway kids are bastards even if your name is normal, so it's just Stiles. What's your name?"__

Derek blinks at the word-vomit, as the floppy-haired kid rolls his eyes, but figures Stiles is just nervous. "I'm Derek."

Stiles nods his head up and down emphatically at this information. "Nice to meet you."

“Scott McCall,” the other one says, and Derek nods at him.

“Scott.”

Deaton's doing paperwork, but he looks up when they come in. "Derek. And..."

"Deaton, these are Stiles and Scott. They’re new." Deaton already knows that, of course, all the teachers are notified when they're bringing someone in, and it's pretty obvious in any case.

Deaton nods and gets up from his desk, holding out his hand to Stiles, who hesitates a moment, then shakes it.

"Pleased to meet you, Stiles.” He shakes hands with Scott as well. “My name is Deaton. I'm in charge of the new students."

Stiles nods. "I keep expecting to see guys in robes, or wrinkled green Muppets lurking around."

Deaton chuckles. "Not quite."

"You got them from here?" Derek asks.

"Yes, thank you Derek. You can go back to your classes."

Derek nods. As he turns to leave, Stiles says, "See you around?"

He shrugs. "Probably." The complex isn't that big, after all.

*-*-*-*

A couple days later, Derek sees Stiles come into the cafeteria, look around uncertainly, probably for Scott, who’s not there, then light with recognition as his eyes land on Derek where he’s sitting at the corner table next to Isaac.

He walks over and plops down across from them. Isaac looks slightly taken aback, then says softly, “You shouldn’t sit here.”

“What?” Stiles’ brow furrows, then he notices the whispering of the students at nearby tables.

“I’m tainted,” Isaac says, his voice one-quarter joking, but mostly bitter.

“Dude, stop it,” Derek says.

“Huh?”

“A bad seed. Dangerous. Liable to go _mmpmh-mmmffr-mm…_ ” Isaac tries to keep talking for a moment after Derek puts his hand over his mouth, then just sighs and glares at him until Derek takes his hand away.

Stiles looks more confused than ever.

“Clearly you haven’t been talking to the other students,” Isaac says.

Stiles blinks. “I haven’t really had a chance. Why?”

“Isaac, I’ve told you not to listen to those stupid rumors!”

“Who says they’re not true? I got Danny to look at my code, but it’s too complex for him. Danny’s good, but he’s nowhere near the level Harris was!”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, Stiles momentarily forgotten. “Just because Harris was a little unstable…”

“A little unstable?” Isaac cuts him off with an incredulous laugh. “Derek, he drugged all of the teachers and most of the students and tried to take over in here! Then when they sent shock troops after him he somehow got away and hid for months! They had a major manhunt going on!”

“Until the top agent of the Collective got him, I know,” Derek says. “Doesn’t mean you’re going to turn out like him.”

“Um, hello? Remember me?” Stiles butts in. “Just because he went crazy, why should you? You his kid or something?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Isaac says. “I’m not human.”

Stiles snorts. “Most of the people here probably qualify as ‘not human’ under some definition of the term.”

“No, you don’t get it! He…made me. I’m an AI. An android.”

Surprisingly, Stiles takes this information in stride. More than that, a smile blooms on his face. “Like JARVIS? Or Data? Dude, awesome!”

Derek smothers a laugh, because the look on Isaac’s face is priceless.

“I…guess so. But that doesn’t matter! I was programmed by a psychopath and–“

“And you’re less likely to turn out to be one than if you _were_ his kid and inherited his genes,” Stiles says. 

Before Isaac can say anything in reply, he asks, “How old are you? I mean, how long since you were created?”

“Three years,” Isaac says after a moment.

Stiles looks at Isaac, who looks about seventeen. “Dude, that is so weird,” he mutters, quietly enough that Isaac doesn’t hear him. “And how long since…Harris…?” Derek nods. “Right, how long since Harris went nuts?”

“Eight months,” Derek says, when Isaac’s silent.

Stiles nods. “Right, so figure he wasn’t screwed on quite right when he made you. If you were going to turn into Ultron you’d have done it by now, right?”

Isaac cracks an unwilling smile. “Maybe.”

“If you start to feel the urge to kill people, just remember ‘Klaatu Barada Nikto.’”

Isaac stares at him. “Two completely different sci-fi references in two seconds. I think I have whiplash.”

Stiles smirks. “But I think you’re pretty safe.” He sits back like he’s won the argument. “Anyone who thinks you’re dangerous is an idiot.”

Derek shakes his head slightly. If only it were that easy to convince him. Derek’s been trying since Harris flew the coop. But maybe, with Stiles here, Isaac will finally start to believe.

*-*-*-*

The next day, Erica notices Stiles.

Derek tries to head her off before there’s any damage (because there’s _always_ damage when Erica notices a guy) but he’s not fast enough.

Erica gives Stiles a sultry smile. “You’re new here, right?”

Derek sees Stiles swallow. “Um, yeah.”

“I could…” she takes a deep breath and leans forward, and Derek’s glad she’s not directing that at _him,_ “…show you around.”

Stiles’ eyes widen, and he swallows again, then coughs and says, “That’s…really nice of you…”

 _Here it comes…_ Derek thinks.

“…but I think I got it.”

Derek feels his mouth fall open slightly, but he’s not as surprised as Erica. She loses the come-hither look for a moment and says, “Really? Um, I mean, you’re sure?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Stiles says, sounding totally normal all of a sudden and not as if he’s being bathed in pheromones. “See you around.”

Derek leaves Erica standing flabbergasted where she is and runs to catch up with Stiles.

“What the hell was _that?_ ” he hisses at him, since Stiles should be one step up from a slime mold right now, willing to do whatever Erica wants.

Stiles shrugs. “She wanted to show me around.”

Derek stops a moment to stare at him, because if that’s what Stiles thinks, then he’s stupider than Derek thought. “But why didn’t you _agree?!_ You should be…” He lets his mouth hang open and a glazed look come over his face, “Yeee-eeeth, mithtreth.”

Stiles blinks. “Wait, what?”

“Are you gay or something?” Derek blurts, then wants to smack himself.

Stiles blinks at him again. “Bi, actually, not that it’s any of your business.”

“But…then…you should have been affected!”

Stiles’ brow furrows. “Affected by what?”

“Her pheromones!” At Stiles’ confused look, he continues, “Erica can manipulate her pheromones so people do what she wants. I don’t envy the people who have to deal with her, since all the talks about ‘ethics’ seem to roll off her back, and…”

Stiles smiles slowly, looking bizarrely delighted. “Dude, she’s a veela!”

It’s Derek’s turn to blink, his train of thought momentarily derailed. “A what?”

Stiles stares at him in incredulous scorn. “Dude, don’t tell me you haven’t read Harry Potter!”

“Of _course_ I’ve read Harry Potter, but…”

“Erica’s a veela,” Stiles says, like this is perfectly normal. “Like Fleur.”

Derek stares at him. “You are aware that veelas are fictional creatures.”

Stiles snorts. “Says the werewolf.”

“I’m not a _werewolf,_ ” Derek says irritably, since no matter how many times he says it, even the teachers call him that. “I just have some genetic mutations that happen to match some of the legends about them.”

“Whatever,” Stiles says, turning into the cafeteria. “Come on, werewolf!”

*-*-*-*

It’s not until later that Derek realizes how effectively Stiles managed to distract him from his immunity to Erica’s powers.

And Derek _knows_ he has to have some powers of his own, since he’s _here,_ but Stiles has seemed remarkably…well, not _normal,_ by any stretch of the imagination, but...ordinary.

And whenever he asks him, Stiles manages to somehow turn the conversation away (not difficult, with his constant non-sequiturs.)

Deaton is no help either. When Derek asks him why Stiles is here, he just replies enigmatically, “He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

So Derek goes to the one person who’s likely to know for sure.

*-*-*-*

Danny’s been here for the past five years, since he was sixteen. Unlike most of the people here, he doesn’t have powers.

Or, well, Derek amends, he doesn’t have a _mutation._ Danny’s lectured him often enough on how his “leet haxxor skillz” give him just as much right to be here as anyone else.

And Derek supposes he’s right, since not only did he _find_ the Collective…

…he hacked it.

Two days after that, some “representatives” arrived to “show him the error of his ways.”

Now Danny has his own lab, at the opposite end of the complex from the cafeteria. Derek swears he’d practically had an orgasm the first time he’d seen the equipment.

Danny’s there, at the computer, his fingers clicking away over the keys at near light-speed, while lines of green code scroll by on the monitors.

“You got a minute?”

The clicking continues. “Sure.”

Derek gives a sigh that’s more than half-growl. “Danny.”

“What? I can listen and code at the same time!” But he swivels his chair around to focus on Derek. “What’s up?”

“Stiles,” Derek says shortly. “What’s his deal?”

Danny blinks. “Uh…what?”

“Why is he _here?!_ ” Derek bursts out in frustration.

Danny shakes his head slowly. “I dunno, man.”

“What do you _mean_ you don’t know?! You’re the one who found him, aren’t you?”

Danny shakes his head again. “I found Scott. The alarm detected a mutation in that general area, and I used surveillance to narrow down the location. I have no clue why Stiles is here.”

Derek refrains from growling, but his fists clench. _Dammit!_

“Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Thanks anyway.”

*-*-*-*

Derek decides the best way to figure out Stiles’ powers is to watch him train.

So when he sees him on the hand-to-hand course with Jackson and Finstock, he stops.

He’s facing off with Jackson, Finstock a bit beyond them to act as referee. Derek doesn’t know what he expects to happen.

Stiles closes his eyes, clenching his fists. His forehead wrinkles.

Suddenly Jackson shoots forward with lightning speed, the poisonous spike coming out of his palm and catching Stiles in the shoulder.

Stiles drops like a ton of bricks.

And, surprisingly, Finstock stands over him, bellowing “YOU’RE NOT _CONCENTRATING!_ ”

Derek’s baffled.

*-*-*-*

A few days later, Derek, Stiles and Scott are sitting in the common area when Lydia comes in. Derek swears Stiles’ eyes turn to throbbing hearts like in a cartoon.

“She’s taken,” he says.

“Uh-huh.”

“By the guy who left you drooling on the floor.”

“I can take him,” Stiles mutters, eyes still locked on Lydia.

“You see that headpiece she’s wearing? It’s to focus her _deadly ultrasonic voice._ "

Stiles blinks, shakes his head, finally looking at Derek. “Wait, what?”

Derek smirks. “If you want to live, leave her alone.”

Stiles sighs. “Okay…”

A moment later Allison walks into the room. Now it’s Scott’s eyes that go wide. Derek sighs. Since when was he the babysitter for every idiot who didn’t know castration when it walked in wearing a miniskirt?

“Her father’s the tactics teacher.”

No response.

“He taught her everything she knows.”

Nothing from Scott.

“Scott, buddy, maybe this isn’t such a…”

“Sure, Stiles,” Scott says, and gets up.

Stiles looks at Derek, who shrugs.

Scott approaches Allison. Derek puts his fingers in his ears, because he doesn’t want to hear this, but he can’t help but watch.

Scott says something to Allison. She smiles and replies. They chat for awhile, presumably small talk, then Scott must put his foot in his mouth.

Allison freezes, staring at Scott, then throws her head back and laughs.

She _ruffles his hair._

Scott looks over the moon, and Derek stares at Stiles.

“What the hell just happened?”

Stiles shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one with the super-hearing.”

*-*-*-*

The next time Derek watches Stiles train, it’s on the parkour course.

He didn’t realize Stiles was training at first, since Braeden was running the twins over it.

They merged into their dual form, muscles bulging out improbably. After a beat, they started on the course.

Derek had seen the twins go over the course before, and they were good. But today they were in top form, perfectly in synch, not a motion wasted or a step missed.

When they finish the course, Braeden clicks off her stopwatch. “You set a new record,” she says as they split again. “Well done.”

She turned to Stiles, who Derek sees is panting even though he wasn’t the one who’d run the course. “All three of you.”

*-*-*-*

That’s the last straw. _No one_ knows why Stiles is here, he’s apparently perfectly normal, but being trained as if he’s a mutant.

So Derek goes to the horse’s mouth.

“Why the hell are you _here?_ ” he growls at Stiles in the common area the next day. “Danny said Scott was a mutant and that’s why they went over there, but he doesn’t know anything about you, and when you train you don’t _do_ anything…” He trails off helplessly.

Stiles sighs. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Derek waves at him to elaborate.

“Scott’s my best friend,” he says, looking over at where Scott’s sitting with Allison. “I was over at his house all the time, and his mom kind of adopted me. It’s just the two of them, since Scott’s father is a douche and he skipped out on them years ago…”

Stiles sighs. “But his father came back, a few weeks ago, when I was over there, yelling about ‘wasted potential’...don’t ask me what that was about…and Scott just…went apeshit.”

Derek raises a brow as Stiles continues. “At first he just got in his dad’s face, yelling about how he comes here after years away, he doesn’t have any right to demand anything from them, even when he was living there he was too busy with his experiments to give a fuck about them….”

“And?” Derek prompts.

Stiles scrubs a hand over his face. “And then Scott’s dad went after his mom and Scott just…” he raised his arms over his head, “Exploded. He looked like a freakin’ bear. He swatted his father like a fly and then he went after him…” Stiles shudders. “I got between them.”

“You _what?!_ ”

“I know, right? But Scott’s my friend, he doesn’t deserve to go to jail for murder. The douche isn’t worth it. So I tried to reason with him, and Scott…stopped. He shrank down a little, looked a little more like himself, but his eyes were still red…”

He shudders again. “Anyway, I kept Scott from killing the guy until the Collective guys showed up and knocked him out. Then things really got complicated.”

“Howso?” Derek asks when it looks like Stiles is lost in thought.

"They had a machine that detects...I dunno, superpowers, I guess, and it pinged Scott, like they were expecting, but not _just_ him," Stiles says in a rush. "And someone had called the police, which meant my father, which, on the one hand, hey, saved them a trip, but on the other this is about the _worst _time to tell him his son has freaky powers and they’re taking him away, honestly I dunno how they got him to agree to let them take me, especially after my m-...well, that doesn't matter, point is, here I am."__

Derek nods. “So Scott’s a…”

Stiles shrugs. “Werebear? I dunno exactly. Apparently his father did some sort of genetic experiments on his mother. They didn’t take on her, but Scott…” He shrugs again.

“And his father?”

Stiles gives a twisted smile. “On lockdown somewhere he’ll never see the sun again.”

Derek nods. The Collective’s like that with threats. “And you…?”

Stiles leans back in his chair. “Apparently I’m Kryptonite.”

“…What?”

“I can rev up or damp down people’s powers.”

Derek blinks. “Really?”

“Sure. You want me to try it on you?”

He pauses. “It’s temporary, right?”

Stiles smiles crookedly. “Only as long as I’m concentrating. Which, with my ADHD, isn’t long, but I’m getting better.”

Derek nods. “Okay.”

Stiles closes his eyes and concentrates, and this time Derek _feels_ it. He’d panic if he didn’t know what’s going on. First he loses his ability to hear people outside the common area. Then there’s a wave of weakness that makes him dizzy. His infrared vision isn’t working, and when he tries to shift, nothing happens.

It’s over in a moment, but Derek stares at Stiles in something like awe. “That’s…one hell of a weapon,” he manages, testing his abilities to make sure everything’s normal.

Stiles nods. “Defensive or offensive. That’s how I got Scott to back off, apparently, without realizing it. And when I get some more training…”

“When you get some more training,” Derek finishes. “Isaac and I won’t be the ones getting the stink-eye anymore.”

*-*-*-*

It doesn’t work out like that, of course. Almost everyone likes Stiles. At some point, Scott convinces Allison to come eat with them, although she ignores Isaac for the first week. Somehow Derek ended up babysitting a bunch of kids, and he’s not sure he likes it, although Isaac is happier than before.

All of them are taken aback when a man sits down at their table one day.

He’s the very definition of “mild-mannered,” balding and in an impeccable suit. No one’s quite sure what to say.

“Can I help you, Agent…”

“Coulson,” the man says, and Derek’s eyes widen.

Coulson. The shadow-man who runs the Collective. The one who took down Harris.

Isaac must realize it too, because he’s gone pale. Coulson turns to him. "My job is to eliminate threats and I do it. I _don't_ eliminate innocents whose only sin was being made by the wrong people," he says, loud enough that his voice will carry to the tables around them.

Isaac looks like he’s going to faint.

Coulson focuses his attention on Derek, "Or seven-year-olds, no matter how obnoxious they are,” he says, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

Derek's eyes go wide. "It was you–" he starts, but Coulson rises smoothly from the table. “Good day, gentlemen. Ladies,” and with a nod, he’s gone.

*-*-*-*

A few days after that, Derek notices Stiles is quiet.

Which sets off all kinds of alarm bells, because Stiles is _never_ quiet. And he smells…

Desolate.

That’s the only word Derek can think of to describe the waves of despair coming off Stiles. And since he never mastered subtlety, he just grabs him after lunch and says, “Come here!”

Stiles yelps, but he goes.

There’s no one in the students’ quarters at this time of day. Derek plops Stiles down on a bed and barks “Talk.”

Stiles scowls at him slightly, rubbing his arm. “Excuse you, manhandling me isn’t going to make me follow your orders, no matter how monosyllabic you make them.”

Derek sighs and takes Stiles’ arm again, gently this time. He concentrates, black runs up his arms, and he takes Stiles’ pain away.

When he opens his eyes again, Stiles’ are wide.

“What?” he snaps.

“Huh? Nothing, I um, just, dude, I…didn’t know you could do that,” Stiles finishes lamely, and Derek snorts.

“Well, I can.” He tries to put himself in Stiles’ position. It seems like he’s adjusted well, but Derek remembers all-too-well what it was like to be ripped away from everything familiar. “You’re upset.”

“I am not!” Stiles replies, but his arms are folded and he’s rubbing them, as if he’s cold.

“I can smell it on you.”

“Damn freaky werewolf nose,” Stiles mutters, and Derek’s about to protest– _again_ –that he’s not a werewolf, when he realizes Stiles is just trying to distract him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about my dad.”

Derek blinks. Missing him he can understand, but… “Why?”

Stiles sighs, rubs a hand through his hair. “My mom died when I was twelve. It hit him pretty hard.”

“And not you?”

Stiles shrugs, “Yeah, sure it did, she was my _mom._ But he wasn’t there when she died and…” He sighs again. “It really messed him up.”

“You took care of him?” Derek guesses, and Stiles nods.

“I made sure he got sleep, and ate more than fast-food all the time and didn’t drink himself into a coma.”

Derek grimaces. “That must have been tough.”

Stiles shrugs. “But now that mom’s gone, and I’m gone, I dunno how he’s gonna cope…” He trails off, then says in a small voice, “They say I can’t contact him.”

Derek snorts. “Fuck that. You know Danny?”

Stiles nods.

“Talk to him, he’ll hook you up.”

Stiles grins at him. “Thanks, man.”

Derek waves him off.

They sit in silence for awhile, then Stiles asks, “What about you?”

“What _about_ me?” Derek repeats, playing dumb because he’s not sure he wants to talk about this.

“How long have you been here? Everyone I talk to says you were here before them.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sixteen years.”

Stiles stares at him. “Dude, really?”

He nods.

Stiles hisses through his teeth. “How old were you when you came here?”

“Seven. I’d just started shifting, and my parents couldn’t cope.”

“Do you talk to them at all?” Stiles asks quietly.

“Letters, sometimes. But it’s been so long, I don’t even know why they bother.”

“Because they’re your _parents!_ ” Stiles says fiercely. “They miss you!”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Fuck maybe, of course they do!”

“I was thinking about going to see them, once I finish my training.”

Stiles nods. “Good idea. They’d be thrilled to see you.”

“I dunno…”

“Dude, what is this? Of course they would. I’ll go with you for fucking moral support if you’re too much of a wuss to go alone.”

Derek smiles, even though he knows Stiles won’t be allowed out until he finishes his own training, which is years away. “Yeah, okay.”


	2. Timestamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles go to see his parents.

Derek’s glad Stiles is with him, but on the other hand, he kind of hates him right now. He’s standing before the yellow door, frozen, unable even to bolt back to the car. Stiles looks at him, and knocks.

The bastard.

Stiles grabs his wrist to keep him from fleeing, and _damn him,_ he’s using his powers to drain Derek’s strength so he can’t break away.

The door opens, and an older woman steps out. Her long hair still has streaks of black in it, and her dark eyes are sharp.

Derek feels words stick in his throat for a moment as his mouth opens and no sounds come out. She’s so _old,_ too old to be his mother. “I…are…you’re…”

Stiles smoothly steps in front of him as the woman frowns. “Hi, you don’t know me, but my name’s Stiles Stilinski.”

“What can I do for you, Stiles?” the woman asks, voice carefully neutral, but it’s the voice that convinces Derek it’s really her.

“Are you Mrs. Hale?”

“Yes,” she says slowly, brow furrowing again.

Stiles pushes him forward, and Derek finally manages to say something. “Hi, mom.”

Her eyes snap to his for a moment, analyzing, then her mouth opens slightly. “…Derek?”

He smiles ruefully and nods, as a smile blooms across her face and she takes him in her arms.

She still smells the same, and Derek can’t help the two tears that scald their way out of his eyes, but she’s crying and laughing too, and he’s _home_ for the first time in sixteen years.

She pushes away from him, hands still on his shoulders. “You’re so _tall!_ ”

Derek doesn’t really know what to say to that, but she doesn’t seem to expect an answer.

“Come inside, both of you!” she says, opening the door for them.

*-*-*-*-*

His mom calls for Derek’s father as soon as they’re inside and Derek freezes again, but all he does is come over and shake hands with him, perhaps sensing that he’s uncomfortable.

His mom sits them all down at the kitchen table while she bustles around making sandwiches. In a surprisingly short time they’re all sitting with glasses of milk and plates in front of them.

“What are you doing here now?” his mom asks.

“I finished my training.”

She nods. “What are you going to do now?”

He shrugs. “I might teach, might see about being assigned to one of the teams.”

“I can’t get over how much you’ve grown. They sent pictures at first, but–“

Derek raises a brow. “They did?”

She nods again. “Every month someone from the Collective sent notes about your progress. An Agent Coulson?”

Ah. Not something Derek would have expected from him, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised.

“And are you a student at the Collective too?” his mom asks Stiles, who swallows his mouthful of grilled cheese and nods.

“I just started fairly recently though.”

“It must be a big adjustment.”

Stiles shrugs.

“So what are your…powers, Stiles?” his dad asks, blinking behind his glasses.

“I’m a catalyst,” Stiles says, then, at his blank look, elaborates. “I can affect the powers of other people.”

“Affect them how?”

As Stiles sets off on an explanation of his powers, segueing into the story of how he and Scott came to the collective, Derek sits back and looks at his parents.

They’re both older–and _smaller_ –than he remembers, but his mom looks at him every so often with a small smile on her face, and his father sits next to him, refilling his glass or passing him a napkin without being asked, and Derek feels his barriers go down for the first time in a long while.

At the end of the meal, his mother hesitates, then suggests, “If you don’t have anywhere to go now you could stay in your old room.”

Derek’s touched, but he knows this visit was an imposition, and they’re not prepared for guests, and he’s not sure any of them can deal with prolonged contact after all this time. “Thank you, really, that means a lot, but I already have an apartment.” No harm in a white lie.

She nods as she moves to gather up the empty plates, but Stiles waves her back into her seat and whisks the dirty dishes into the sink.

“You can come back to visit any time,” his dad says.

“I will.”

His dad shakes hands with Stiles and gives Derek a hug, then his mom walks them out.

“We meant that, you know. Come back soon,” his mom says, her voice cracking.

Derek hugs her, breathing in her smell. “As soon as I can.”

*-*-*-*-*

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Derek says, once they’re in his car. Other than answering questions, Stiles hasn’t said a word, which is so unlike him he’s not sure whether to be worried.

“This was for you,” Stiles says, surprising him. “You guys needed to connect again. I didn’t want to monopolize things.”

“I…thank you. For dragging me out here, for not…” Derek trails off, not knowing what he’s even trying to say, but Stiles smiles at him.

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
